


Unintentional Affections

by Delphicy



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: BAMF!Kasuka knows more than you, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Izaya has to learn about emotions and it is uncomfortable, M/M, eventual schmoopy sex, initially rough sex, really there is just a lot of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-13 18:37:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3392048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphicy/pseuds/Delphicy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Izaya and Shizuo are in an agreement that can be generously described as "enemies with benefits". After one fateful romp in an alleyway, however, Izaya decides it is time to stir up their routine a bit in the name of confusing the hell out of Shizuo (and maybe squeezing in a bit of bonus emotional trauma). </p><p>He is the chessmaster. He is the mastermind. There is a 0.0% chance that his scheming will backfire horrendously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hell hath no mischief like an Izaya Bored

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has a special place in my heart for the first big fanfic I ever wrote <3 This one has less editing, so will be up in its entirety pretty quickly. It does come with the disclaimer of starting pretty graphically. 
> 
> Written back in yesteryear for a prompt in part 2 of the kinkmeme:  
> "I know there's a million requests for this pairing but I am humbly requesting one more since I didn't see another one anywhere else like it....
> 
> Shizuo/Izaya -- Shizuo and Izaya have gotten into a routine of rough sex after fighting and it's become habitual. The kink? Nothing turns Izaya on more than some tender, ~making-love~-esque sex. 
> 
> Make it happen and try to make it somehow IC anon! Shizuo tops obvi." (http://drrrkink.livejournal.com/1786.html?thread=1788410#t1788410)

It started with the same catalytic violence: with teeth and fists, the flash of a knife. The dance was so finely choreographed that a particularly voyeuristic onlooker would be hard pressed to tell if they were indulging in brutal foreplay or tender homicide. In all fairness, the participants were pretty confused themselves.  
  
“Fucking slutty Flea,” Shizuo hissed as he yanked Izaya’s hair so the shorter man’s head tilted back at a precarious angle. Despite his vulnerable expanse of neck, Izaya continued grinning maliciously, red eyes slit as he refused to break visual contact with the brute. There was no indication he was planning to run, however. There was no need. Izaya knew he could “win” these battles.   
  
“And what does that make you, Shizu-chan?” Izaya shot back, giving an indelicate squeeze to the bulge in Shizuo’s uniform. The blond grunted, somewhere in between pain and arousal, before slamming Izaya back against the crumbling brick of the alleyway.   
  
“Shut up. Hate you so much,” he murmured over the top of Izaya’s lips as they panted the same air. The kiss that followed was more a face-to-face assault than any display of affection, a violent demonstration of dominance that was one part bruising and two parts asphyxiation. Izaya returned the favor by biting deep into those crushing lips. He giggled around the metallic tang before the world was spinning and a hand was shoving his face against the filthy pavement of alleyway.   
  
“Fuck you into submission,” came the fragmented growl from behind, accompanied by the ringing harmony of an unbuckling belt. “Feral piece of shit. Can’t even fuck you face to face.” Immobilized by that irritatingly strong hand, Izaya resorted to pushing his ass back towards Shizuo and  _grinding_.   
  
“Try it, you Neanderthal. See if that pitiful dick of yours can get one ounce of respect out of—aahhh!” the taunt was cut short as Shizuo unceremoniously ripped the pants right off of him. Goddamnit, those were  _expensive_.  
  
“Of all the- you lowlife simpleton  _brute_. So you ha—ahaaa. Hnnnah- ah- ah,“ his indignation at the unwarranted wardrobe destruction was brought to a screeching halt as Shizuo rammed into the informant without any preparation. Despite this-  _because_  of this- Izaya was hard pressed to complain. The sudden onslaught on his nerves oscillated radically between searing pleasure and scintillating pain, making his own cock swell in a maddening surge of lust. He couldn’t help the whimpers and moans that were wrenched from him as he pushed just as violently back against the throbbing length, undulating his hips in an obscene, wanton pulse that dragged an extended moan from the violent creature behind him. “Ung, fu- oh God. Deeper-”  
  
“Shut up shut up shut up,” came the growled mantra behind him, in synchrony with violent thrusts. Before he knew what was happening, a piece of Izaya’s own demolished pants were being shoved into his mouth as a makeshift gag. Izaya didn’t even manage an indignant growl before Shizuo struck a new angle and succinctly started  _decimating_  the spot that made him melt. 

In a helpless writhing mess, Izaya whimpered and cursed around the fabric. Without any grace or preamble, his orgasm was upon him, ripping through his system in an agonizing blaze of stars and a muffled scream. He emptied his load onto the cold pavement, arching helplessly and reaching back belatedly with one hand to pump furiously, squeezing out several more spurts of semen. His vision hadn’t even cleared before warm slickness filled him, shooting deep into his system to the tune of Shizuo’s groan. Several more off kilter thrusts, and the blond was pulling out, cursing Izaya’s existence, and buckling his pants. As quickly as it had started, the encounter was over, and Shizuo left the alley, nothing but the trailing scent of cigarette smoke and the thick, viscous globs of white running down Izaya’s thighs to show he had been there at all.  
  
Izaya sat up slowly, spit out fragments of trouser, and ran a shaking hand through his hair. His erection hadn’t even fully flagged yet, he noted with disgusted interest. A hand absently massaged his groin amid the mess he sat in until his heart rate slowed. He silently regarded the slick mixture of semen and blood coating his legs before wavering to his feet and mopping himself with shredded fabric.   
  
Izaya’s mind flitted around odd thoughts as he worked. It wasn’t that is wasn’t enjoyable. Hell, the glistening flecks of white on the pavement were proof enough of  _that._  He was strangely unsatisfied though. In multiple ways, in fact.  
  
On the superficial level, it was the utter lack of finesse. He was a connoisseur at heart. Expensive furniture, luscious food, the complex and masterful deconstruction of the human psyche- all spoke of a certain pride he took in the particularly delectable things this world had to offer. A quick and sloppy fuck was just a momentary release. An insulting twinkie when he wanted crème brulee.   
  
On the deeper level, it was the irritation that the outcome of these encounters had become so predictable. Shizu-chan was an infuriating, terrifying opponent, but Izaya couldn’t deny the rush he got with having to deal with such an unpredictable creature. It was… vexing, that each round of frenzied alleyway sex followed the same pattern, the same motions. Izaya was bored.  
  
It was generally a bad thing when Izaya was bored.  
  
At length, he was clean of evidence of their debauched activities. He gave one last wistful glance at his designer pants, and settled for zipping his parka up like a particularly skanky dress. As he unceremoniously dropped the ruined pants in a nearby dumpster, he began to scheme.  
  
It was time to change the rules of their little game, and he was going to have a hell of a time forcing Shizu-chan to switch gears. His smile widened in anticipation.

* * *

Shizuo stretched his legs lazily and reclined against the shaded back of the park bench, letting the soothing smoke of his cigarette curl in his lungs. It was a quiet day for ‘Bukuro, and he was content to simply sit back and enjoy the summer breeze. In these moments, he could almost pretend tranquility was something he was able to call upon at will. It was a charming illusion. 

He was dozing lightly, contemplating what cranny he would next eradicate the Flea from, when the sound of silence alerted him to another’s presence. Cracking open an eye, his gaze focused in on a small pocket of darkness in the otherwise blindingly bright square. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.  
  
“Yo, Celty. What’s up?”  
  
The dullahan wheeled her bike over to him and cocked her helmet to the side. She made an absent motion towards her PDA, but dropped the hand and simply went back to regarding him. Puzzled, Shizuo sat up fully and opened both eyes. They gazed at each other for several more moments.  
  
“Oi, everything okay?” he questioned, toeing the wheel of her motorcycle. The motorcycle, without any manipulation from Celty, reared up and smacked him in the shin. He shrugged. Weirder things had happened.   
  
Celty was still for one more moment before she made a decisive reach for her PDA and started typing furiously, as if she didn’t want to focus on what she was actually writing. Curling the PDA towards her chest for a moment, she hunched her shoulders, and then quickly extended her arm to display the screen.   
  
[Do you care for Izaya? Does he make you happy?]  
  
Shizuo swallowed his cigarette.   
  
In the following struggle, he divided his attention between evacuating the burning stick from his esophagus and reeling at the (numerous, terrifying) implications of her statement. The swallowed cigarette was the first of the two to be remedied.   
  
Celty was possibly the best friend he had, and they had shared many cathartic heart-to-hearts over the past few years. That said, there was an unspoken (heh) agreement between the two of them: Celty didn’t clarify exactly how intimate her relationship was with Shinra, and the only time Shizuo talked about making Izaya sweat was in relation to their most recent parkour escapades. Celty was not like that spastic otaku that hung around Kadota- if she was prying into this, there was a reason behind it.   
  
Curiously, he was too preoccupied with  _why_  she had asked such a thing to give much thought to  _what_  she had asked. If he had stopped to think about the honest answer (however skewed it may be from the intended connotation), he may have been even more disturbed. As it was, he rubbed at his watering eyes and looked up at her in bewilderment. Celty took this as her cue to explicate.   
  
[He hired me for another job] she typed, and Shizuo hoped to God this was going to end with her asking his permission to kill the Flea for whatever the bastard had her doing. That was the only way his heart rate was going return to a safe reading. Her next sentence vaporized this hope. [I was assigned to find out what makes you happy. His direct words were “I know Shizu-chan hates losing control of his temper, I’m just not very good at helping in that respect. Find something that can help him keep his cool. I’m curious about his smile.”]

Shizuo’s alarm was going through the proverbial roof to the point that even Celty could feel his anxiety. This likely had less to do with the sensing capabilities of her ubiquitous smoke, and more to do with the sweat on his forehead and the unfocused look in his eyes. It was obvious to any outside viewer that he was either slipping into a serious internal freak out, or was suffering from a spontaneous cerebral hemorrhage. Perhaps both.

She set the kickstand on her motorcycle and sat down next to him, hands in her lap. They both stared blankly ahead in shell-shocked camaraderie. Though they were both worried about Izaya’s most recent set of antics, it was for radically different reasons.  
  
Celty was fearful the informant was planning some sort of strike on Shizuo. How, exactly, he was hoping to use this requested information was beyond her- poisoning Shizuo’s favorite food? Kicking that odd stray dog that followed him around in hopes of pushing Shizuo into an apoplectic fit? She didn’t know, but Izaya’s interest was rarely conducive to the happiness and health of his target.   
  
Shizuo’s thought process was on a different tangent entirely. Izaya had never made the effort to get to know him. From the very first day of high school, they had established the healthy, simple practice of attempted homicide in the face of any action the other took. There was no puzzling out motives. Each felt an overwhelming, all consuming passion to watch the other  _bleed_ , and that had always been enough. After almost  _ten years_ , Izaya was suddenly changing his tune? Shizuo could only come to one conclusion: he had actually hurt the Flea.   
  
It left an odd sort of sickness in the pit of his stomach, an unpleasant hollowness that he balked at internally. Sure, he wanted to witness (if not cause) the Flea’s messy and untimely demise, but it had always been a goal to strive for, not something he thought he could actually accomplish. In an odd sort of way, Izaya was a comfort for his tenacious ability to survive and walk away from any encounter with Shizuo’s strength. The thought that he may have actually damaged the pest with their most recent alleyway fuck hurt more than he would have thought. He felt his fingertips slipping from the last edge of normalcy he clung to.   
  
Shizuo stood up abruptly, absently smashing the arm rest of the bench as he rose. The familiar haze of fury was once more causing his vision to swim and focus in on odd details of the surrounding landscape. God _damnit_ , all he had wanted was one peaceful day, and that asshole Izaya had manage to ruin it without even showing up. Shizuo shook with rage and frustration as Celty sprang to her feet and laid a hand on his arm  
  
[It’s okay Shizuo, calm down. I didn’t tell him anything.]  
  
Shizuo suppressed a sickened chuckle. That was hardly the largest worry here. “Thanks for your help Celty, but there are some things I need to take care of.” Before she could respond, he broke into a lope and vaulted the nearest fence. He could feel his control slipping, and he hated letting her see that side of him.   
  
A small, still coherent part of his mind whispered he needed help. Needed to verify what exactly had happened to Izaya. Needed some sort of reassurance they could go back to their old routine like nothing was wrong. He ran. 

* * *

“Hey Shizuo!” Shinra chirped brightly, as if having the strongest man in Ikebukuro in his doorway, panting and furious, was the pinnacle of his morning. “What can I do for you?”

Absolutely no surprise registered on the doctor’s face when Shizuo growled out, “where is Izaya?”  
  
“Ah, you just missed him an hour or two ago. Here, come in. I’ll get you something to drink.” Shizuo had to forgo the formalities of a proper guest with the effort of not vomiting on Shinra’s shoes. The Flea had been here. Some unrealistically optimistic portion of his mind had been holding out hope that this was one huge misunderstanding, and Izaya wasn’t hurt. That was out the window. This only made Shizuo more furious, which of course helped nothing whatsoever.   
  
He shuffled miserably into the living room and contemplated how successful he would be at crushing his own skull.   
  
“You’re looking awfully glum,” Shinra observed, coming back with a can of cola for each of them.  
  
“How bad?” Shizuo asked without prelude.   
  
Shinra blinked behind his glasses. “How bad was what? Oooooh, did you two have some quality time in the alleyway again? He never asks for patch up jobs for that sort of thing. Claims he doesn’t want to give me a free show, but I think it’s more that he is a masochist and enjoys the after effects. Not that I blame him. When Celty decides to-“  
  
“SHINRA.”  
  
“Right, sorry, sorry! What was it you came to talk about anyway?”  
  
Shizuo dug his fingers absently into his blond hair. The overpowering rage was slipping into a pretty hefty bout of confusion.   
  
“Why was Izaya here, exactly, if not to get patched up?”  
  
The young doctor plopped down on the couch and grinned sinfully. “Wouldn’t you like to know. I’ve never seen him that intent on making another person happy, to be honest. I just  _knew_  you two would finally figure out all that energy was just repressed sexual urges, though it’s nice you are finally moving beyond casual fuck buddies into something more emotionally rewarding. It reminded me of the first time I took Celty-“  
  
“ _Shinra_.”  
  
“Right, sorry, sorry! But seriously, you just came by to check that he was okay? That’s really sweet. Oh! That reminds me. He left something for you.” The doctor scampered off to an adjoining room and started rummaging around his desk, odd clanks and thumps reaching Shizuo in an offbeat rhythm. “I just had it. Where- aha!”  
  
Shinra reemerged from the office with a moderately sized frame is his hands. “Izaya said he found this just last night and thought you would like it. He asked me to give it to you because he had to travel out of Tokyo shortly.” Shinra turned the frame in his hands to display a breathtaking painting of the Ikebukuro skyline at dusk. Staring at the cityscape in wonder, Shizuo slowly took the frame and turned it over in his hands. A sticky note clung to the canvas on the back.  
  
‘Home. For when you need a reminder of how wonderful the city can be, despite its pests.’  
  
Shizuo’s mouth went dry, and he had to exert a conscious effort to keep his hands loose so as not to crack the frame. It was… beautiful. Perfect. What the  _fuck_.   
  
Unless he was missing a considerable time frame from his memory, they were  _as of last night_  indulging in textbook example of hate sex. Sometime in the last ten hours, Izaya had apparently decided to look into all of his favorite things, and made a pit stop to buy him  _art_. What.   
  
Shizuo massaged the bridge of his nose, suddenly feeling exhausted. The shift from surprise to anger to terror to confusion was simply too much. Now it felt like someone had taken the whole clusterfuck and thrown it into a blender, leaving him with nothing but a slightly distasteful amorphous goo he had no idea what to do with. Except make crappy similes about, apparently.   
  
He collapsed onto the couch and wondered if he should start worrying about Izaya’s motives. He decided to stare at the beautiful picture instead.  
  
“I’m so jealous, just so you know. That is a  _perfect_  view of the city. See, that building right there is where Celty practiced the reverse cowg-“  
  
“ _SHINRA.”_


	2. Chapter 2

Kasuka loved his brother. Truly. Despite the blatant dichotomy in their personalities and conduct, there was no one in the world he looked up to more. That said, Kasuka was really starting to wonder if Shizuo’s sense of self-preservation had atrophied in the face of his superhuman strength. Normally, he let Shizuo live his own life and make his own blunders.  _Normally_. There was nothing at all normal about this situation or this man.   
  
Playing with Orihara Izaya was like playing with fire. Forest fire. Forest fire that was rapidly encroaching upon a nuclear power plant. Kasuka was not prone to hyperbole, but it was incredibly difficult to snuff the slow building unease that the information broker inspired in anyone who held his attention long enough.  
  
Kasuka currently had that particular honor.   
  
That Izaya was present in his room at all was a form of silent gloating. Kasuka had some of the best body guards in Japan to ward off his slew of rabid fans, yet when Izaya had strolled up to the hotel room door with a crooked grin and a raised eyebrow, the armed body guard three times his size had shot Kasuka a apologetic look, scuffed his shoe against the carpet, and stepped out of the informant’s way. The fact Izaya had managed to locate the undisclosed hotel Kasuka was staying at didn’t even bear mentioning; he  _was_  Orihara Izaya after all.   
  
They now sat facing each other over a generic coffee table in the civilized and mild-mannered equivalent of a gun slinger moment. Kasuka himself was not particularly threatened by the man- he had never had reason to be- but Izaya had a keen interest in Shizuo, and Kasuka was acutely aware that any slip up on his part could be used as ammo against his brother. He mechanically took a sip of tea, and politely inquired, “how may I help you, Orihara-san?” in a soft monotone that sounded like the movement of a chess piece.   
  
The older man grinned amicably and leaned forward, fingers lacing as he rested his elbows on his knees. “No need to be so formal, Yuuhei-kun. I simply came for some advice, if you have the time.”  
  
Interesting.  
  
“Of course… Izaya-san.”  
  
“As you probably know, Shizu-chan has always been able to capture my attention. I’m sure you’ve seen the result of our clashing on more than one occasion. My purpose is simply this,” pale cheeks suddenly sported two small points of pink. If Izaya weren’t so good at his own job, Kasuka may have felt threatened by that level of acting. “I am trying to find a… less destructive way to advance our relationship.”  
  
 _Interesting_.

“I’m not sure what help I can offer you, but I will assist in any way I can,” Kasuka acknowledged quietly. As Izaya proceeded to question him (Shizuo’s favorite type of weather, if he liked bananas green or speckled brown, what he wanted to be when he was little…) Kasuka took in each action and expression, turned it over in his mind, weighed it, and catalogued it for closer inspection later. Izaya seemed to be operating under two misconceptions that were in Kasuka’s favor. The first was that his mild mannered demeanor reflected an encompassing apathy for anything outside of acting. Quite the contrary, this line of questioning was more engaging than any of his recent scripts. The second was that because he was Shizuo’s brother, he held the same charming naiveté for human interaction. Nothing was further from the truth. As an actor, he was exquisitely versed in body language, and as such was extremely talented at reading people.  
  
The synergy of these two facts lead him to some truly intriguing discoveries.  
  
Izaya was used to dealing with some of the deadliest people in the greater Tokyo area, and as such was being blasé with this “safe” interrogation, giving off subtle cues he probably wouldn’t have let slip if he had been fully on his guard. Like how the corners of his eyes crinkled with a story of tiny Shizuo getting his head stuck in between two fence posts. Or how the side of his mouth spasmed into the slightest frown as they got on the topic of Shizuo’s self loathing towards his inhuman strength. Three different conversations were taking place here, and Kasuka found it captivating.  
  
Most evident was the actual question and answer session they were having, which was shockingly relaxed and entertaining for both parties involve. Slightly more subtle were the reactions Izaya was purposely giving off, little gestures that screamed “I want to know more. Shizuo has become my world.” Most subtle, most fascinating, were the ephemeral flashes of true motivation. Kasuka doubted many people could claim the honor of actually  _seeing through_  some of Izaya’s actions. Kasuka himself was gifted with it simply through the peculiarity of the situation.  
  
Izaya wanted Kasuka to think he was head over heels for Shizuo, likely in an effort to get as much information as possible before he used it in some crippling emotional blow against Shizuo. If his reactions were any indication, however, Izaya was starting to lose his objective stance. With each additional story, the interest became a bit more sincere. With each glimpse into Shizuo’s tender side, the informant became slightly less predatory and slightly more contemplative. 

There was of course the chance that Izaya was talented enough to have emulated even these deeper, more subtle reactions in order to convince Kasuka he wasn’t any real threat to Shizuo. That was bordering on over-analysis of the situation, however (what a troublesome guy, that it was even a possibility). What it ultimately came down to was a gamble, a cost-benefit scenario. If this was another of Izaya’s ploys to set Shizuo up, Kasuka wasn’t worried about his brother rebounding (if for no other reason, to beat the ever-loving shit out of his rival). If this  _was_  the beginning fracture in Izaya’s defenses however… well. Shizuo needed someone who would be able to keep pace with him. Izaya offered a fascinating nigh-on-poetic solution. Kasuka made his decision quickly on gut instinct, and settled into the enjoyable discussion with this highly intelligent and subtly terrifying man he may be seeing more of in the future.   
  
At length, the discussion was ended not for lack of topics to cover, but by Kasuka’s agent.  
  
“Hanejima-san, we will be heading out to the next filming location in fifteen minutes,” the man reported before catching site of Izaya. The response was comical- he remained wide eyed and blushing until Kasuka gave him a curt nod as cue to exit. He uttered a very manly squeak before doing so.  
  
“Forgive me for my rude departure, Izaya-san,” he murmured, standing and giving a slight bow. Izaya looked at him with a broad smile that was dangerously close to sincere.   
  
“Not at all, Yuuhei-kun. I should be thanking you for your time and your company. I will leave you to your work. As a parting token of my appreciation, I offer you this: your director is a very forward man and one of your most adamant fans. Should he do anything untoward in the following weeks- alas, all men have their weaknesses- here is the number to a woman who would be happy to give you incriminating documents to leak to the press.” Izaya extended a folded piece of paper, clenched between his index and middle finger. Kasuka was taken aback at the relief that flooded him in taking that small slip.   
  
 _ **Interesting**_.   
  
Kasuka stood in thoughtful silence for several moments after Izaya had left (blowing a kiss of departure to the flustered body guard on his way out). Despite the tingles of danger that were still skipping up and down his spine, Kasuka felt a tiny smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. At length, he reached for his cell phone and punch in a number.  
  
The phone caught after four rings “Heiwajima Shizuo.”  
  
“Brother. I have to leave shortly, but do you have a moment to talk?” 

* * *

Izaya wished he were back in his office for the simple fact he wanted to spin his chair in glee. The sort of high he was experiencing was usually reserved for illegal substances- and with good reason, he reflected, as another stranger shot him an odd look upon seeing his massive grin. He was currently strolling through the busy streets of Osaka, submerging himself in the delightful cacophony of mankind and fighting the urge to break out into laughter.

By this time, Shizu-chan should be tearing out his hair in confusion over the painting, Celty should be questioning if his intentions towards the brute were actually true, and Shinra should be taking it all in with school-boyish delight until he distracted himself with the parallels it ran to his relationship with Celty. Newly added to the list was little Kasuka, who despite his impressive poker face, was oh-so-excited at the aspect of big brother finding love. Izaya skipped for a few steps before he could contain himself.   
  
What an unexpected delight Heiwajima-the-younger had turned out to be! Izaya’s mind was swimming with newfound information on Shizu-chan, a veritable encyclopedia of anecdotes when he had been expecting little more than an informative pamphlet. God, it was  _priceless_. So many endless possibilities. Food play with pudding was really topping the list at the moment… When this was all over and the gift would be suitably antagonistic, he swore he would send Kasuka a fruit basket.   
  
Izaya sighed, closed his eyes, and let his head drop back to feel the sunlight on his face. He was going to  _break_  this indestructible man. Years of throwing gangs against the brute met with no success. Who knew all it would take was a precise emotional incision?  
  
Izaya had some sort of pathologic need to string Shizu-chan along, he was sure of it. He was practically salivating at the prospect of building Shizu-chan’s trust, giving him some sort of emotional oasis, and then tearing it all out from under his feet. Maybe the “pacifist” would end up taking his own life in a fit of Shakespearean drama. Izaya hummed happily and started planning how he would put this whole thing into action. With each thought of a tiny gift here, a bit of bribery there, he could picture Shizuo’s confusion and slowly dawning pleasure, accompanied by a big grin splitting across that aggressively handsome face.  
  
Unable to contain his glee any longer, Izaya spring-boarded off of an old chain link fence and skipped along a gutter until he was darting across rooftops, leaving the surprised chatter of the crowd beneath him. With the wind in his hair, a plan in his mind, and Shizu-chan in his pocket, he couldn’t help but break out into a decent rendition of an old American song (any native speaker of the language would have found the strong accent dreadfully endearing).  
  
“Why do you build me up~ Buttercup baby, just to let me down~ And mess me around…”

* * *

When Shizuo finally returned home, the new table was sporting a gift wrapped box. Shizuo frowned after he toed off his shoes. The past week and a half had been a confusing hurricane of good luck, better company, and gifts that were shockingly thoughtful and personable. It was as if someone had figured out what triggered his temper and had gone about the whole of Ikebukuro, informing the populous how to avoid stepping on his toes. Given the sheer scale of the event, Shizuo suspected someone  _had_. Given how utterly impossible that task seemed, Shizuo knew  _who_  had done it as well.  
  
The result was astounding. Without any of the usual triggers pissing him off, Shizuo had not broken anything (or anyone) in over six days. Whatever other people thought, he truly did hate his monstrous, destructive strength. To be freed of it for so long was… liberating. Invigorating. Euphoric.  
  
Shortly after the odd tranquility entered his daily routine, his landlord had contacted him, informing him that a new room was finally available. As Shizuo’s apartment had consisted of spectacularly broken windows, a total of one and a half working light bulbs, and a plumbing system that had a personal vendetta against hot water for over two years, Shizuo was suspicious of suddenly having the option of a new space. The suspicion was aided greatly by how upscale and spacious the new apartment was. The suspicion was confirmed by the “on the house” rent the landlord gave him for having to deal with the run-down apartment for so long.  
  
As this trend continued through the following days, Shizuo couldn’t decided which was more ridiculous- that he had apparently been transplanted into his own personal utopia in a span of under two weeks, or that he would happily give up all of the thoughtful presents that decorated the new ritzy apartment for a chance to see Izaya.   
  
Despite every event over the last week and a half virtually having the other man’s signature scrawled across it, Shizuo still hadn’t seen him since the night in the alley, and it was driving him  _mad_. Izaya was always “out of town” (well, technically “back in town”, seeing as Shinjuku was his official residence) or “away from the office” as a bored looking woman in a heinous sweater had informed him when he had given up and went to go find Izaya. Shizuo had never noticed how much of each day he dedicated towards thinking about the Flea until the man’s absence became so conspicuous.  
  
Giving a frustrated sigh, Shizuo shuffled towards the most recent gift. He couldn’t think of many people who would have both the gall and talent to break into his home without leaving any signs of forced entry, and as Izaya’s gifts had yet to appear  _inside_  his apartment, his money was on their irritating mutual friend.

Sure enough, the scrawled note atop the shiny green paper was illegible enough to denote the writer as a doctor.  
  
‘I figured you may appreciate this gift until Izaya makes an appearance again’ Shizuo was able to decipher after squinting and tilting the paper sideways.  
  
Well that was ominous.  
  
With considerable trepidation, Shizuo pulled at the paper and cautiously lifted the lid off the top of the box, absently noting how he had received more gifts in the past week than he had with his cumulative birthdays.  
  
Inside was nestled what appeared to be a photo album. Frowning, he withdrew it slowly and flipped open the cover to be greeted by a photo from his Raijin days (Shinra smiled brightly as the focus of the picture while Shizuo was attempting to punch Izaya in the face in the background). Breathing a sigh of relief at the seemingly innocuous gift, Shizuo took a seat at the table and started to flip through the pages. It appeared to be a collection of photos of Izaya. They didn’t seem to be in any particular order, and most were candid shots of Izaya acting like the moron he was, but the gift still left Shizuo with a warm feeling in his stomach.  
  
As he continued flipping through the pages, he was blindsided by a shocking realization: Izaya was  _beautiful_. It honestly just wasn’t the sort of detail Shizuo usually focused upon. Over the years, Izaya’s very face had come to personify the feeling of murderous rage, so he had never paused to consider the other man’s actual features. How had he missed what a striking color Izaya’s eyes were, or how long and elegant his neck was? How did the smaller man manage to be so breath-takingly graceful as he balanced one foot on the railing of a roof like some sort of deranged psychopath? Inhaling heavily, Shizuo slowed down his perusing to appreciate each picture in more detail and drink in the omnipresent laughter etched across the Flea’s face.   
  
Shizuo was smiling a stupid, dopey grin by the time he turned the page to find a picture of Izaya completely naked.  
  
What.  
  
 _Flip_.  
  
And more.  
  
…  
  
He was going to  _kill_  Shinra. 

* * *

Izaya regarded the informant before him with polite disinterest. True, he did a lot of his own information gathering, but he also had quite a few “feelers” placed throughout the city to serve as his eyes and ears. Generally they reported back news with a simple phone call, so he was waiting to hear why the man in front of him had wanted to meet in person. He absently cleaned under his nails with his flick blade as the man made his report, patience thinning with the uninspiring hearsay. Honestly. He could be spending this time putting the finishing touches on operation Make Shizu-chan Cry Like a Teenage Girl, but instead he had to listen to-  
  
“And finally, some firsthand news on Heiwajima Shizuo.” Izaya’s knife paused in mid-movement as his eyes flashed up to pierce the man standing before him. The trash seemed to preen under the attention before continuing. “Heiwajima seems to have become a bit smitten with you, Izaya-san. I personally saw him blushing over a-“  
  
“And why were you observing Heiwajima Shizuo?” Izaya inquired in the sort of sing-song tone that stopped the peon in his tracks and made that detestable smile fall like a suicide jumper. In a practiced rotation of his wrist, Izaya had the flick blade firmly in the palm of his hand and cocked against his thumb. It was a gesture that clearly broadcast his aggression despite the fact he remained seated behind his desk, smiling congenially. “I have made it explicitly clear that Shizu-chan is my target, and my target only. If you are poaching my territory, you must surely believe yourself to be the better informant. That being the case, you clearly already know about the merger deal the Awakusa have taking place shortly. I suggest you go there now and close the terms, oh great informant! Shiki-san is evidently  _your_ contact now that I have lost my jurisdiction. Oh! I'm sure you don't need telling, but tread carefully with your wording. Even with the right information, the wrong verbage will likely earn you a couple of finger amputations." He used his free hand to type a short message on his phone. "I have updated Shiki-san. He is expecting you."  
  
The admittedly over-the-top punishment was only slightly ruined by the snort that came from Namie as she continued to shuffle papers on the couch behind them. Izaya’s gaze didn’t waver from the minor informant, however, and the man seemed to be focusing too hard on not sweating out a vital organ to register the woman’s derision.  
  
“No- I didn’t mean- I  _apologize_  Izaya-san- I only thought-“  
  
“And that is why I do not pay you to think,” Izaya replied lightly. "Shouldn't you be on your way? The yakuza are even less forgiving about tardiness than they are about diction...” he trailed off as a smile sharper than his blade slipped onto his face.  
  
The man didn’t need to hear the rest. Tripping over apologies as he was tripping over his feet, he was out the door and down the hall in a noisy, panicked clatter.

As soon as he was gone, Izaya rested his hands on his desk and inhaled sharply through his nose, wondering what exactly had just happened. Anger was still swirling through his veins in such a powerful pulse that his vision was fuzzing at the edges and his muscles felt like they were ready to rip through the desk top. If this was the sort of emotion Shizu-chan had to contend with on a regular basis, it was no wonder his name had become synonymous with property damage. The poor bastard. Now Izaya was going to have to run interference so Shiki didn't have a fit over being an instrument in teaching Izaya's minions a lesson. It was honestly difficult to care about in the face of his frustration. Izaya had to continue taking deep breaths as he willed logic back into his thoughts. It would be to no one’s benefit if he took off after that imbecile and  _carved his fucking eyes out until he understood what it meant to encroach on what belonged to Orihara Izaya-_  
  
Namie’s clear, delighted laughter snapped him out of it.   
  
With his reacquired lucidity, Izaya shot her a look that would have made any sane person swallow their tongue. Rather unfortunately, chronically elevated levels of incestual lust had addled her brain ages ago, so she plowed right ahead with her statement.   
  
“Unbelievable. Tell me, have you peed on Shizuo’s leg yet? That might help clear up any future misunderstandings of possession.”  
  
He responded with a vicious smile. “No, it is much more effective to stake a claim on a man by riding his dick. But you wouldn’t know that, would you?”  
  
Naime’s good humor evaporated. Izaya gave himself a mental pat on the back as she stood up with bruised dignity. “You are revolting,” she informed him before leaving the room. He was deeply amused by the fact that her ill humor didn’t prevent her from clocking out first. Even that small strand of amusement faded quickly, however. He frowned now that the room’s silence allowed him to think. What the hell had provoked such a response for such a stupid, minor overstep?  
  
 _But it wasn’t minor_ , his mind whispered as he collapse back into his chair.  _Shizu-chan is mine. MINE. To think that-_ he shook his head. This voluntary abstinence was clearly detrimental to his mental health. It was a good thing this whole build-up was going to be worth every second, because there was nothing in the world Izaya wanted more than to hunt down Shizuo and burn away this anger and frustration in a flurry of frenzied thrusts. Izaya’s hand dipped below his pants line and found stiff, hot flesh. He cursed the entire situation and closed his eyes with the first aching rub. 

* * *

Shizuo really wasn’t sure which emotion was winning out: murderous fury that Shinra apparently had a stash of naked pictures of Izaya (what the fuck what the fuck what the  _fuck_ ), or pure and unadulterated horniness at each additional photo that flaunted smooth white skin. The entire situation was uncomfortable for him. His arousal for Izaya was usually a brutal, spur of the moment occasion. He really didn’t know how to handle this sweeping, slow kindling need that was now mounting at an alarming rate and gaining fuel by the events that had taken place over the last week and a half.   
  
More than anything, Shizuo was so goddamn frustrated that he couldn’t even  _talk_  to Izaya in order to reestablish his well-seated hatred for the other man. When this frustration was stacked on top of the fact that all of Ikebukuro was bending over backwards to make his life easier, and Kasuka kept calling with the most emotionally confounding conversations he had ever had in his life, Shizuo just wanted to push it all away, carry Izaya off to a secluded area, and fuck him until life made sense again. He was aware of the irony: he had spent a good portion of his life chasing Izaya  _out_  of Ikebukuro, and now that he wanted to see him more than any other person, the Flea was nowhere to be found. Shizuo wanted to punch irony in the face.   
  
With a frustrated groan, his eyes darted back down to the most recent picture he had flipped to. Izaya was fully clothed, but his tongue was snaking obscenely around the icing of a cupcake as his eyes shot a sultry look at the photographer. Shizuo’s cock had some very strong opinions about the subtext of this picture, and with a defeated growl, Shizuo slipped his hand into his pants.   
  
He fought off a whimper with the first tug of flesh, envisioning that dexterous tongue tracing along the bottom of his cock. He envisioned Izaya’s hot breath ghosting along the moistened skin, gentle puffs and wet kisses marching up to Shizuo’s straining head. Shizuo flipped the page of the photo album, and groaned as he was greeted by photo-Izaya, coyly sucking on his fingers.  
  
The Izaya of Shizuo’s fantasy slurped over his dick with equal enthusiasm. Shizuo stifled a scream.

* * *

Izaya was already a horny, twitching mess. With pants kicked carelessly to the ground, he was straining up into his own hand, thrusting and cursing as sweat trickled down his back. Pleasure pushed through him in waves as, eyes squeezed shut, he thought about the past week. A pictures of Shizuo smiling broadly at a small bag of sweets flashed through his mind, only to be replaced with Shizuo holding a small potted orchid in wonder. Shizuo laughing with Tanaka Tom, Shizuo trailing a finger for his new goldfish to chase, Shizuo frowning in concentration as he tried to outrace the melting ice cream of his cone.  
  
Fuck. Shizuo licking at that trail of liquid white…Izaya let out a whimper and squirmed against his hand, cursing that Shizuo wasn’t here to fill him to the brim. Izaya’s hand wasn’t enough- his ass ached for the intrusion, the thrusts, the wanton moans…  
  
His eyes flashed to a desk drawer with dawning elation. When rumor had first started that he and Shizuo were sleeping together, Namie had made him the gift of a ridiculous dildo. It had been meant as a barb, seeing as she thought the rumor was just that. “For when you start missing his cock too much,” she had said with a gloating smile. _Oh Namie, bless your vindictive little head_. He tumbled gracelessly out of his chair, clawing at the drawer with one hand while the other contended with his heavy, swollen dick. There was a great crash as he ripped the drawer off of its track, spilling papers and cards and pens across the floor. Trembling in anticipation, he groped through the mess until his fingers fumbled across silicone. Almost sobbing with relief, he lifted the dildo and pressed his cheek against the cool length.  
  
 _I want you to suck me off_  whispered a voice through his mind that sounded suspiciously like Shizuo’s. Whimpering once more, Izaya licked around the pliable tip before swallowing down the length of the toy. In his head, Shizuo’s moans played through the room.  
  
Hollowing his cheeks against the length, Izaya gave another squeeze to his penis before he started thrusting.   
  
 _Ung, so good. Uh, suck harder. That’s it. Shit. Want you so much. Wanna be in you-_  
  
With a slurp and a trail of saliva, the dildo popped from his mouth, glistening and ready as Izaya’s dick pushed out a frantic bead of precum. Readjusting, he leaned against the surface of his desk and brought his arm behind him, seating the tip of the dildo against his ass.  
  
“Shizu-chan,” he whispered weakly, before thrusting back against the toy, his cry meshing with a deep, fabricated groan.

* * *

Panting and mewing, Shizuo’s hand fumbled over his cock, blurring with the frenzied pumping as his toes dug into the carpet and stomach rippled in serial contractions. He teetered on the painful cusp of orgasm, so close. So close that his muscles ached and his vision swam. So close that his blood roared in his ears. So close that he could  _swear_  that he could feel Izaya’s tongue curling around his dick. His chest heaved as his eyes crawled over the pictures- Izaya panting and unfocused, Izaya with legs spread wide, Izaya flushed-face.  
  
A furious groan escaped Shizuo as his dick throbbed for release, sobbing tiny beads of precum than hung from his tip in a thick glistening strand. So fucking close. His hand smeared through the slick juice as he groped at his balls, pushing…pushing….  
  
Fuck, he needed Izaya, he needed to hear him, needed to…  
  
One hand shot out to fumble with his phone, drunkenly punching numbers as the other continued to tug frantically at swollen skin.  
  
This was an awful idea, truly idiotic, but he needed,  _needed_ -

* * *

Izaya’s cheek was against the cool surface of his desk where he licked and kissed and sucked at the fogging glass. He was almost sobbing for release, pushing back violently against the dildo as Shizuo’s phantom words echoed in his ear.  
  
 _So tight. Fuck you feel so good around my dick. I just want to pound into you until-_  
  
Izaya’s phone vibrated somewhere to his left, and in his haze of lust, he swore to eviscerate whoever the fuck it was that had decided to call right then. It was possibly the last coherent thought he had before his was lost in the heat of his own hand, the scraping press of the dildo, and the whispers of fantasy-Shizuo in his ear.  
  
 _Fuck, I’m so close. Izaya. Izaya. I love you I love you I love you-_  
  
Eyes flying open in shock, Izaya splattered his cum across the glass.

* * *

Shizuo’s breath was coming out is harsh wheezes as his balls tightened in blinding pain. He was  _so damn close_  just a little…  
  
The ringing stopped as the phone clicked.  
  
“This is Orihara Izaya. I am unavailable-“  
  
With a cry, Shizuo sprayed across the glistening pages of the photo album. As the jets of semen tapered down to small leaks that crawled over his trembling fist, he collapsed into his chair and simply continued to squeeze at his tingling flesh in stunned silence.  
  
Panting until he felt he had gulped up all the air in the room, Shizuo came down from his high and analyzed exactly what had just happened. The absolute need, the frenzy, Izaya’s voice.  _Izaya’s voice_.  
  
A very quiet, collected corner of his mind informed him that he was in deep shit.  
  
Cracking open his eyes, he looked down in exhaustion at the cum-covered pages of the photo album, where a bit of semen was crawling down Izaya’s grinning cheek. Shizuo’s cock gave an enthusiastic twitch. His forehead hit the table as he groaned. 

* * *

The remnants of Izaya moan trembled against the walls of the open study until it was nothing more than a whisper of pleasure among the books. Chest heaving, Izaya blinked unseeingly at the viscous flecks of white painted across his desk top. Unnoticed, the dildo slipped from his hole with a small sucking  _plop_. Somehow, through the haze of the afterglow, Shizuo’s fabricated voice continued to echo in his mind.  
  
 _I love you I love you I love you._  
  
This could be a problem. 


	3. Chapter 3

The fifth time she heard the noise (something between a hum of interest and a groan of frustration), Namie threw down the pile of papers she had been filing and glared at Izaya. Usually, the aggravating man was amply aware of the fact he was pissing her off, and would greet her exasperation with a broad smile. In this instance, however, he remained motionlessly staring at the ridiculous children’s program he was watching, curled against the armrest of the couch and absently chewing on a corner of the pillow he held clutched to his chest.

Now Namie was used to Izaya having a host of quirks- she deserved a _medal_ for the amount of batshittery she tolerated each day- but he was acting odd even by modified standards. A bit like a sick animal, in fact, if the way he kept trying to curl into himself was any indication. She briefly entertained the notion of taking him to the vet, but concluded he wasn’t worth the overhead charge.  
  
It wasn’t like she cared or anything. She just wanted to know if whatever the hell was wrong with him was contagious, lest she accidentally bring it home to Seiji.  
  
As she watched, he fidgeted a bit and mumbled something to himself with an unfocused look. At length he squeezed his eyes shut and let out another of the odd little intrigued/frustrated noises.  
  
“WHAT.” If he had finally decided to go crazy, fine, but he could at least have the decency to do it _quietly_.  
  
He flinched at the growled question and looked at her in askance. She wondered if he had slept at all the previous night; he looked decidedly peaky. And kind of pitiful, actually, but she recovered from that small bout of sympathy almost immediately.  
  
“Did you have a specific question, Namie, or is this an exercise in rhetorical shouting?”

Her fingers dug into the table she was sitting at as she resisted the urge to lob a paperweight at his head. “What is wrong with your desk?” she finally growled, pointing at the spot where he spent the vast majority of his time when he wasn’t skipping around the city, tormenting middle schoolers. He hadn’t so much as glanced at it for the entire morning. His already pale skin blanched. Namie’s gut instinct was that of a shark scenting blood. “Something the matter, Izaya? I thought you said that was ‘where all the magic happens.’” She was going to continue taunting him, but got distracted by the flush that was suddenly flooding his face and the odd little “hrk” noise he had just emitted.  
  
Now _this_ was fun. There was two-faced, and then there was Izaya. In all the time she had known him, she had never seen a single emotion on his face that he didn’t want her to see. Now, out of the blue, he was wide-eyed and flustered with mussed hair and the general air of someone who had been hit by multiple buses. She wondered if he had been drugged. She then wondered if she could record it before he came to his senses.  
  
“I have simply decided to take the day off. You can do that when you are your own boss.” The fact that he had replied with a statement instead of a biting retort was perhaps the strongest argument that there was something seriously wrong with him.  
  
Everything seemed to click, and she slammed her hand down on the table, once more making him jump. Izaya was a coward at heart, and would run from anything he didn’t have the upper hand in, despicable man. She refused to try and work while he hid under furniture with his tail between his legs.  
  
“Just go to Ikebukuro. The only one who can get your panties this twisted up is Heiwajima, so go and fix whatever it is that is making you more obnoxious than usual. You’re driving me crazy.”  
  
“You reached that destination ages ago,” he retaliated half-heartedly. It was such a lame attempt that she didn’t even bother with the effort of being offended. Instead, she stood up, marched over to the couch, and yanked him over the back of it by the wrist. With an exclaimed curse, he was able to twist and land on his feet, but it was a near thing. Good, his reflexes were still intact. That made it less likely that Heiwajima would be able to kill him.  
  
Not that she cared. It was just that if he died, she wouldn’t have a salary to support Seiji with.  
  
“Go. Fix it.” She demanded, giving him little shoves towards the exit. There was something extremely cathartic about slamming the door closed in his shocked face.  
  
Stupid idiot. He was doing love a disservice by denying it.

* * *

It was a beautiful evening in Ikebukuro, with the sun casting an orange tint to the leaves in the park. Tom walked beside a ridiculously placid Shizuo and enjoyed the evening breeze. Life was _good_ l ately. Today specifically had gone without a hitch, aided largely by the fact Shizuo now got the job done by simply _looking_ at their clientele instead of beating them into incoherency. The weight of the cash at his side spoke of how well the new tactic worked.

It was just as he was thinking about suggesting dinner that Tom was snapped out of his pleasant musings. In front of him was a… decidedly odd sight.  
  
Orihara Izaya stood under a nearby tree where the ground at his feet pulsing with pigeons. As Tom watched, he absently pegged another bird in the head with a piece of bread and observed the ensuing chaos with a distracted frown. He batted unseeingly at the cooing bullets that periodically bee-lined for the large crust he held in his hands.  
  
Tom paused, glancing worriedly at Shizuo. He had been _so calm_ over the last few days -Tom was truly happy for his friend. If there was anything that could put that new found serenity to the test, however, it was Orihara Izaya. Predictably, Shizuo’s face contorted into a mask of rage. Right as Tom was preparing to unite his face with the palm of his hand, however, Shizuo faltered. What was this?  
  
“Think of what Kasuka said,” Shizuo was whispering to himself. “Don’t focus on the rage, focus on the intensity of the emotion…”  
  
Tom really had no idea how to interpret that statement. Before he could give it proper thought though, Shizuo was walking calmly forward, hands in his pockets. The people who caught sight of him gave a quick backward glance, spotted Izaya, and scattered like a flock of sheep caught between two wolves. The sudden mass exodus dragged Izaya’s attention away from the persistent pigeon barrage and directly to Shizuo.  
  
Tom suddenly had a ridiculous urge for popcorn, knowing full well that if either man could hear his thoughts, he would be dead before dark. He couldn’t help it: the encounter was playing out like a drama that had just thrown in a spontaneous plot twist. At catching sight of Shizuo, Izaya’s eyes widened to an unnatural extent, amplifying his already young appearance. In place of the characteristic sneer, his mouth was in a small, surprised “o”.  
  
At this odd sight, Shizuo faltered, stopping short of the other man. Tom would have given all of their earnings for the day to have seen Shizuo’s face. Izaya’s reaction was probably even more confounding for Shizuo than it was for Tom.  
  
At length, Shizuo closed the distance with a few more hesitant steps. When he stopped, he glanced off to the side, burying his hand in his hair with a nervous gesture.  
  
What?  
  
“Izaya. Wouldyouliketohavedinner?”  
  
 _What?_  
  
Tom continued watching in bewildered silence as Izaya attempted his trademark grin. He really only achieved queasy nervousness. “Sure Shizu-chan. I could go for some food.” They awkwardly stared at each other for several moments before Shizuo reached out and gave a soft tug to Izaya’s wrist. His hand quickly retreated back into a pocket once they were both walking, the width of three people separating them.  
  
Tom could do nothing but stand and stare in the now-empty park. Had that really just happened? He looked around for someone else to confirm with, and only found a pigeon giving him a predatory once-over.  
  
Shaking his head, Tom withdrew his phone and sent out the news, hoping someone would have a logical explanation. As Shizuo had asked in public, Tom doubted he would mind the Dollars knowing about the event.  
  
His phone hadn’t even made it back into his pocket before the screen lit up with 27 new messages.

* * *

Izaya was currently indulging in one of the most awkward and uncomfortable silence in his life, and he was Not Pleased. This sort of bullshit just didn’t happen to him. While he loved and admired humanity, resplendent in its flaws, he made it personal policy to avoid the butterflies-in-the-stomach idiocy that was such a huge fad. Apparently his subconscious had trashed that memo. Now was around the time he should be spouting witty comments and sending Shizu-chan coy looks that would cause the other man to trip over his own tongue. Instead, his mind had decided to go completely devoid of anything remotely intelligent, and simply replayed the obscene fantasy he was having the night before. _I love-_

He and his imagination were going to _have words_ once this was all over.  
  
It was almost a welcome event when he felt his phone vibrating with a message. As he pulled it from his pocket and caught sight of a message from the Dollars, he noticed Shizu-chan mimicking his actions.  
  
“Wait, you’re in-“ they stated in unison before falling silent.  
  
“Hah! This is too much!”  
  
“That just _figures_.”  
  
Whatever amusement Izaya was feeling at this discovery was dwarfed by what he felt upon reading the message.  
  
[Shizuo and Izaya on a date. Am I missing something?]  
  
Izaya turned his gaze to Shizu-chan, who was bright red and looked on the verge of crushing his phone. “It’s not a-“  
  
Both their phones gave simultaneous shudders as they were hit with a torrent of messages.  
  
[Eeeeeee! Where where whe-]  
  
[Truthfully? I though-]  
  
[No, they are probably just-]  
  
[Izaya is blowing Shizuo as we speak-] Hahaha! He liked that one.  
  
[Could it be that-]  
  
[Their love is so pure-] Now really.  
  
[Are they looking for someone to-]  
  
With a snicker, Izaya shut off his phone, silencing the barrage of messages. Normally, he would seize the opportunity to ham this up, but from the cracking sound and the piece of cell phone that went ricocheting into the bushes, he surmised Shizu-chan didn’t need any further aggravation.  
  
“Forget about it,” he said lightly, grabbing Shizuo-chan’s wrist and skipping cheerfully backwards in an effort to drag him towards the nearest sushi joint. The blond jolted forward, a blush staining his cheeks and a scowl twisting his mouth. Blessed be Ikebukuro. Izaya was giddy and Shizuo-chan was pissed off; for the first time since the previous night, everything felt right with the world, and he allowed himself a small laugh.  
  
With this return to normalcy, he felt his spirits soaring, and finally,  _finally_  his unease from the previous night ebbed to the background of his thoughts. Him, getting worked up over a little fabricated endearment. Honestly.  
  
Izaya shot a grin back at Shizuo (who frankly seemed as relieved to be disgruntled as Izaya was to be amused) before prancing through the doorway of the small sushi shop they had made it to. He paused in the entrance, causing Shizu-chan to smack into him and send him stumbling several steps into the front partition.  
  
“What the hell Flea? Don’t just stop in… doorways…” The restaurant was fairly quiet, with only the sushi chef, a young waitress, five teenage girls, a rundown businessman, and an elderly couple. Every single one was staring raptly at a cell phone screen. Upon their entrance, all eyes snapped to the two of them, and a quiet stare-down ensued. The moment was only broken when the little old lady- good lord, she had to be at least seventy- tittered behind her hand.  
  
Like some sort of verbal catalyst, this set the businessman chattering, the waitress gushing, and the school girls squealing as they vainly struggled to take pictures and text at the same time. Izaya heard a quiet growl building behind him, and sent a charming look towards the chef.  
  
“An order to go please?”

* * *

In the end, the restaurant was not destroyed, but it was a very near thing. As Shizuo felt that ever familiar rage building behind his eyes, Izaya darted forward and picked up an order that was undoubtedly for one of the clients already present. He threw down a wad of cash for the bemused chef before skipping back to Shizuo, who was in the process of mangling a decorative screen. Shizuo felt this was admirable on his part- he would have rather had a neck of one of the obnoxiously gawking diners twisting in his hands.

The only thing that prevented him from hurling the debilitated screen upon hearing another round of squealing was Izaya blocking his line of vision, _kissing him on the tip of his nose,_ and promptly _**stealing his goddamned glasses** _ .   
  
“IZAAAAAAAYAAAAAAAAAA!”  
  
In an instant, the situation narrowed down to a comfortable, familiar routine, and they were off across the streets and alleyways of Ikebukuro. It was lacking their usual parkour finesse, seeing as the screen wasn’t particularly heavy but _was_ particularly awkward in shape, and Izaya was spending a great deal of energy ensuring that his leaps and scrambles weren’t damaging their dinner. Nonetheless, Shizuo gave a victorious shout when he was finally able to pin the Flea against a door.

“I’ve got you, bastard.”  
  
Izaya looked back with a huge grin. Shizuo had to do an odd double take as his mind struggled between the immediate rage that grin always brought on, and the sudden attraction he felt due to the previous night’s realization that said grin was damn sexy.  
  
“Indeed you do. Care for dinner now?” Shizuo blinked, and realized the door they were in front of was, in fact, his apartment door. Huh.  
  
“What was that stunt about?” Shizuo questioned, unlocking the door mechanically. He _was_ hungry after all.  
  
“Hm? Oh, it just looked like things were getting a bit out of control. It seemed like the best way to get out of there quickly and let you blow off a bit of steam.” Shizuo stood in stupefied silence as his lingering rage dissipated and Izaya obliviously set out the trays.  
  
This entire situation was really doing a number on Shizuo mentally. It was bad enough when all of the presents came and confused the hell out of him. It was worse when he was hit with the realization that he was actually _attracted_ to the Flea. Then, he had been shocked upon seeing Izaya in the park and finding he still had an inherent flare of rage at the very sight of the other man. He supposed it was emotional muscle memory from _years upon years_ of them fighting, but it still caught him off guard after all of his talks with Kasuka and the events of last night…  
  
But now. Now he had discovered an entirely new level of confusing. Disregarding the sexual attraction, Izaya had just nonchalantly demonstrated how well he knew Shizuo- he knew the other man was losing control, knew that the inevitable destruction would distress him later, and knew exactly how to fix it. Shizuo was completely and utterly floored. This was different from clever presents or coy looks. As cliché as it sounded, this was someone accepting him for who he was and working with his flaws. An embarrassing warmth started building in his chest.  
  
 _Maybe,_ a voice whispered in the back of his head. _Maybe it really can be something more. Maybe there is finally a person you can-_ he squashed the thought with a suitably violent grimace. That was a particular vulnerability he had no intention of ever letting Izaya see. He had one final phantom ache to simply _hold_ the smaller man- to revel in the contentment of human contact- before he sealed it away. He still wasn’t completely convinced Izaya wasn’t playing him, and it would be easier to brush off a night of sex than a night of emotional outpourings.  
  
Snapping out of his reverie, he noticed the table was set and Izaya was giving him a bemused look. _I should stop moping_ , he reflected, eyes lingering on the other man’s features. _A night of sex would hardly be a bad outcome_ . He returned the look with a grin, and watched with a thrill as Izaya’s eyes darkened. _Yes, not bad at all_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all comes to a head (ahahahahah sex puns are the best pun). Herein lies the actual fill to the kinkmeme prompt :)

Izaya was flushed, exuberant, and giggling almost incessantly. It was debatable if this could be attributed to his emotional recovery, the large amount of plum wine currently in his circulation, or the shockingly dynamic conversation he was having with Shizu-chan as they squabbled over the last piece of unagi (which was around the same time he realized he had never heard Shizu-chan’s genuine laughter before. If his muscles weren’t already jelly from the alcohol, that rich deep noise would have done the trick).   
  
Shizu-chan was regarding him with subdued mirth as Izaya spoke about the current woes of one of their high school classmates they had mutually disliked. The blond was also slightly flushed, but didn’t seem to be nearly as affected by the alcohol. That bastard. Just by virtue of sheer proportions he probably had a liver the size of Shikoku, the cheating asshole.   
  
When Izaya said as much, Shizu-chan only looked more amused. “Izaya, you’re had a glass and a half,” he indicated to the nearly full bottle, “so either a seven year old girl could drink you under the table- which is a possibility I’m not willing to rule out- or you are trying to blame alcohol for the fact you are enjoying my company.”  
  
“See? This is why I like you when you aren’t angry. You’re  _cheeky_ ,” Izaya responded, deciding to focus on the warm affection he was feeling over the ramifications of that statement.   
  
“And this is why I like you when you aren’t being an asshole. You’re adorable.”   
  
Izaya pouted playfully. “And here I was being serious. You really are an entirely separate person when you aren’t pissed off.”  
  
Shizu-chan flicked some of the rapidly melting kakigori his way, which Izaya skillfully caught on his tongue. He was amused to find this made Shizu-chan lose his train of thought for several moments. Shaking his head, the blond continued after a powerful exhale. “And I was being serious as well.”  
  
That weird fluttering in Izaya’s chest did  _not_  just return, god _damn_ it. He had recovered from his odd bout of schoolgirl-itis, and would not go all gushy over something as dumb as their admitting they liked each other- he had a plan to execute! For fuck’s sake. Izaya was just about to dispel the uncomfortable, bubbly atmosphere with some cutting remark (pending. He was sure it would come to him soon though) when he caught sight of Shizu-chan.  
  
The blond was regarding Izaya with an odd expression on his face, somehow soft and calculating at the same time. Izaya didn’t know whether to be wary of such an expression of Shizu-chan’s usually straight-forward features, or to be oddly attracted to how incredibly hot the look made him.   
  
“I’m going to try something, okay?” he asked before Izaya could question what the expression was about. Further, Shizu-chan was around the table before Izaya could answer the query. The shorter man was alarmed to find Shizu-chan squatting, bringing them almost nose to nose. A breath passed, and then Shizu-chan was kissing him.  
  
There wasn’t anything exciting about it, nor anything lewd.  
  
It was something straight out of the halls of a middle school.  
  
This was so awkward, all hesitance and closed lips.   
  
Really, what was supposed to be so exciting about kissing like this?  
  
If he was able to catalog the details of it while it was taking place, it clearly wasn’t… Izaya melted.   
  
Internal snarking only got so far when the simple sensation of lips moving softly against his own sent chills down to his toes and made his heart try to clamber out of his rib cage. It was so very much like a first kiss. Only, Izaya’s first kiss had been quite similar to the ones he had exchanged with Shizuo in the alley- a bruising, biting thing that was just another way to battle. This was something else entirely. Something that toyed with the edges of his perceptions about love. Something that made him momentarily forget about any ulterior motives to this simple pleasure. Something that made his rise slowly out of the chair and bring his hands up to cup Shizuo’s head as he pushed forward to explore this strange experience further. 

Shizuo made a pleased noise and slanted his lips to press at the corner of Izaya’s mouth, slowly trailing the caress across his cheek and down his neck to suck lightly at the juncture of neck and shoulder. Izaya was immobilized by overt pleasure.  _Simple gestures, such simple gestures_  he tried to remind himself as it felt like fire suffused his blood. All it took was the gentle touch of a tongue where Shizuo had been sucking against his neck to force a breathy whimper out of Izaya and cause him to break into harsh panting. Shizuo drew back slightly and trailed trembling fingers across exposed skin, leaving shivering pleasure in their wake. Izaya, flushed, weak in the knees, and more turned on than he had ever been in his life, only caught a brief glance of Shizuo’s dilated pupils before the two of them were once more slanting their lips together.  
  
Round two came with significantly less propriety, as because of Izaya’s continued panting, Shizuo’s tongue slipped into the mix.  _I can’t take this_  Izaya thought dazedly as that skillful tongue gently massaged the roof of his mouth, setting the skin tingling before angling south to curl against Izaya’s own. Tasting kabayaki, Izaya finally understood what it meant to be killed by softness.  
  
His knees gave out. His knees  _actually_  gave out. If his poor oxygen deprived brain could have focused on anything other than the crippling euphoria wracking his body, he would have marveled at the fact that that could actually happen outside of a movie from the 1920’s.

Shizuo chuckled into his mouth (which sent soft vibrations across Izaya’s tongue and directly down to his groin) as he looped and arm around the shorter man’s waist to keep him upright. With an odd, awkward, and completely unsexy waddle, they were able to maneuver over to the posh new couch and collapse down into it. Or rather, a weak, breathless, and horny Izaya collapsed down into it and took Shizuo with him by virtue of arms looped around the blond’s neck. Shizuo gave a surprised laugh and collapsed in a pile of awkward limb angles, trying desperately to not tumble to the floor as Izaya started licking and nibbling at his collarbone. The laughter bled into a groan as Izaya slipped a hand over the bulge in Shizuo’s pants and massaged it eagerly as he continued this odd, gentle kissing he was only just getting the hang of.   
  
Shizuo pulled back reluctantly and shifted so they were once more face to face. He nibbled at Izaya’s lower lip before grinning. “Slow it down, or I’m going to embarrass myself.”   
  
Izaya, who was having difficulty even focusing his eyes by that point, gave a frustrated whimper and angled his pelvis upward to press and rub against Shizuo. The blond stifled another groan.  
  
“Enjoying the new style, are you?”  
  
“Shizu-chan, if I believed in heaven, I would swear we were in the top layer right now.”  
  
It had been Izaya’s intention to broadcast exactly how needy he was feeling at the moment, and hopefully prod Shizuo into relieving some of the maddening tension. This failed horribly. Instead, with the comment, Shizuo drew back slowly as his huge pupils telescoped back in to focus on Izaya’s face.  
  
“Huh,” he said simply, and Izaya’s heart nearly stopped.   
  
Shizuo was not as consistently intuitive as his younger brother, but he still had the obnoxious ability to sniff out secrets Izaya would rather leave in the dark. Where Kasuka’s perception was as infiltrative as a heavy fog, Shizuo’s struck out of the blue like a bolt of lightning- powerful, unpredictable, and devastating. That “huh” rang with the warning crack of thunder.  
  
“That’s it then, isn't it?” the blond asked quietly. “You don’t believe in the afterlife, and that makes you terrified of what you can achieve before life ends.” How in the- what? What? How the hell did he get that out of heavenly fooling around? “You have to be gunning full throttle every moment just to feel like you’re alive? You have to lance through other people’s lives just so they feel your existence?”   
  
Izaya couldn't breathe for an entirely separate reason now. “Not exactly the smoothest foreplay there, Shizu-chan,” he whispered weakly.   
  
_…!!_  stated his paralyzed inner thoughts.  
  
_LESS PHILOSOPHY MORE SEX_  was his penis’s eloquent contribution. 

Shizuo leaned down for another lingering kiss that, despite Izaya’s best efforts, relaxed his tense muscles. It was a distinct problem that Shizuo now possessed the ability to silence him in one gesture. Izaya blinked up into the eyes of the serious blond, and contemplated three things. Firstly, why the hell did Shizuo care? Secondly, how on earth did they end up at this point, trading soul-searching gazes? And lastly, why the  _fuck_  had they stopped making out?   
  
“It’s not foreplay Izaya,” he leaned down again and brushed lips across the brunet’s temple. “It is offering you the same support you have given me over the past week and a half. If you truly are looking for a relationship, you have to know that it goes both ways- you have to let me act as your support as well.”  
  
A part of Izaya’s mind was screaming for him to cut his losses and run, while another part pointed out this would be the perfect opportunity to scornfully push Shizuo away and enjoy the ensuing train wreck. Neither won out, as his body made the final call and remained sprawled on the couch, drinking in the slow massage of Shizuo’s hands on his shoulders and upper arms.   
  
“Still silent?” Shizuo questioned, lips hovering millimeters above Izaya’s. Izaya kept his self respect for all of half a second before leaning up and pressing against those lips once more, willing Shizuo to stop, to drop it, to just  _let him enjoy something so deliciously uncomplicated for once_. Something close to desperation filled his chest as Shizuo drew back and ran a thumb across his cheek. “I suppose that fits though. You talk so much when you are bluffing, it fits that you clam up with the truth. Alright then, I will just have to take a stab at it.”  
  
Taking a stab at his emotional issues apparently entailed removing his shirt. Izaya was okay with this. Shizuo followed by shrugging off his own button-down before leaning back down to drag his lips across Izaya’s nipple. The smaller man gave a jolt and arched upward with a breathless gasp, hopelessly straining for contact as Shizuo sucked lightly at the skin and then leaned back once more.   
  
“So the problem here is you are terrified of death. That is really quite common. Something so basically human I wouldn’t have expected it of you, in fact.” Shut up. Just  _shut up_ , Izaya wanted to scream through the distasteful medley of terror and yearning. All he actually managed was another soft and breathless noise as Shizuo played across his ribs with long, curious fingers. 

“You are so smart, how is it this is what has caught you up?” Hands skimmed down his sides as Shizuo trailed slow, warm kisses down his chest, tracing the grooves of muscles with that talented, talented tongue. Izaya felt a telltale burning in his throat, but couldn’t say what aspect of this situation made him want to cry the most. “For what it’s worth,” Shizuo whispered in warm puffs of breath against his navel, forcing Izaya’s abs to contract in ticklish pleasure,“I’m sorry I never bothered to find out why you were so abrasive. I’m sorry I helped you prolong this delusion that slicing through mankind and living vicariously through its suffering was somehow your elixir to eternal life.”  
  
He kissed lower, slowly unbuckling Izaya’s belt as those large hands crawled underneath boxers. As he remained immobilized by the conversation and the sheer sensation of the gentle caress, Izaya prayed to whichever deity would listen (which was hellishly ironic given the current situation) that Shizuo would simply pleasure him and let him be. He was very much starting to regret the sequence of events that had allowed this to happen.  _Hello karma. I thought we had an agreement_.  
  
“You don't need to brew all that chaos. I can see you,” Shizuo stated quietly, lips brushing his clothed erection as Izaya let out the first silent sob. “I can feel you.” Something inside was breaking, and Izaya was already too deep in devastation to feel much shame over the wet warmth on his cheeks. Shizuo must have glanced up, because suddenly he was snaking back up the smaller man’s torso.  
  
“Izaya,” he stated simply, smoothing back hair and thumbing away the tears. “Izaya, look at me.” He really didn’t want to. He really,  _really_  didn’t want to. This was all a game. A stupid game to get a rise out of his rival, and some good sex in the process. Somehow it had twisted in his hands so that they were dissecting the one thing he couldn't control. The only thing out of his manipulative reach. Izaya’s stomach turned, and he considered how absurd it was that he could still be aroused through this emotional anguish. The very last thing in the  _world_  he wanted to do was look into the eyes of the man he had been fighting for ten years, with his plan in ruins and his armor shattered.   
  
“Izaya,” Shizuo whispered. Izaya opened his eyes.   
  
Shizuo’s warm brown gaze met his own, and Izaya felt another tear leak out of the corner of his eye. A look of compassion flashed across the blond’s face before he was leaning down and kissing away that stray tear.  
  
“We are going to fix this here and now, because for whatever reason you want to believe, it bothers me beyond words to see you crying.”  
  
Izaya couldn't contain the derisive snort that escaped him, and they shared a fragile grin before Shizuo’s lips were on his once more and Shizuo’s groin was grinding softly against him. The lust once more outweighed the terror of the conversation, and Izaya sighed into the kiss.  
  
“Having someone there makes it better, huh?” Shizuo questioned all too soon. Just wanting this entire situation to end, Izaya pressed his face into Shizuo shoulder and focused on the warm pleasantness of the other man’s scent. “I’m scared too,” Shizuo whispered in his ear. Izaya’s eyes snapped open. “Fucking terrified, in fact. My strength is getting to the point where if I’m not careful, I could break your arm without even meaning to. And yet all I really want is someone to lean against me so I can feel this strength is worth something after all. Someone to defend from whatever must be out there, as vague and stupid as that sounds. Because it has to mean something. All of this stupid pain and destruction has to have been for  _something._ I really didn't want to tell you this, because you and I both know you are a manipulative bastard, but fair is fair, and you’re already showing your weaknesses. So there it is. I know loneliness. I know fear. I’m terrified that for all my strength, I will be alone. And truthfully, that could break me.”

There it was.

Ensconced in an uncomfortable sea of theological musings, Shizuo presented him the endgame to this entire ruse. 

 _It’s right there. That is your opening. Take it. Take it!_  Izaya’s scheming self howled.

Izaya instead decided to press a kiss to Shizuo’s bare shoulder. “Why are you telling me this?”  
  
“Because in the end, it is the same fear. You worry about being erased. I worry about never meaning anything to anyone but myself. Two faces of the same coin. How do you feel when I do this?” Shizuo once more pressed a trail of kisses down his neck, warm and comforting.   
  
“A hell of a lot better than when I am getting a dissertation on death,” Izaya admitted.  
  
“That’s encouraging then. ‘Fooling around with you is better than a lecture on death’. Breaking new ground here.”  
  
Izaya couldn’t help the explosive laughter that left him in giggling convulsions against Shizuo’s chest. He felt Shizuo’s responding smile against his neck. If Shizuo was trembling a bit, and if Izaya’s laughter was a little shrill, it didn't bear mentioning.  
  
“So here is the way I see it,” Shizuo continued once Izaya’s giggles had quieted. “I can’t say what is out there, or what is past death. What I can say is you will feel a hell of a lot more alive if you forge a bond with another person instead of going around and severing them.” Shizuo continued to press intermittent kisses against the angle between Izaya’s neck and jaw. Again his hands were wandering, and Izaya could do nothing but cling to broad, bare shoulders as he found solace in the quiet ebb and pulse of pleasure. “I will also tell you this- and so help me, if you mock me for it, I am going to tear out your femur and beat you over the head with it,” Izaya squirmed and let out a hybrid noise of a giggle and a moan as Shizuo’s hands dipped lower. “This is pretty damn early in our… relationship or whatever this is… to go all sappy but... I could come to love you, I think. If you could stay with me, if you could let me protect you, I would never let that crushing fear near you again. I would be with you, Izaya, for whatever comes after life. If there is nothing, we’ll make something, because be it love or hate, whatever I feel for you is too strong to just drop. And if there IS an afterlife, well. I’ll be right there waiting as well, to drag us both into heaven or to punch us a way out of hell. Don’t you see? It is completely irrelevant what happens after death, because my feelings for you are too strong to let you slip away.”  
  
“I-“  
  
“Oh, shut up,” the blond responded. “Either you are going to shoot off something defensively caustic- which I don’t want to hear- or you are going to stumble awkwardly over an endearment you may not mean, which I don’t want to hear.”

Izaya was pretty tempted to point out who exactly was being the chatty Cathy here, but it seemed kind of petty even for him, and Shizuo would probably just blow past it anyway. “What do you want to hear then?” Izaya questioned quietly, because his head hurt and his dick hurt and his heart hurt, and for once, he was more than willing to toss over control to someone else.   
  
“Nothing at all. It is demonstration time now. Let me show you how I can love you. Let me show you the kind of dedication I am capable of.” Shizuo drew back and simply waited patiently with large, earnest brown eyes.   
  
_End this_  was the final plaintive whisper from the part of his mind that still thought he could retreat. Still though stringing Shizuo along emotionally was worth anything at all. It was so tiny and so weak he didn't even bother to crush it. It had been a lost cause since Kasuka’s stories, he realized with a sinking feeling.  _Checkmate, Shizu-chan_.  
  
Izaya tipped over his king by leaning forward and capturing Shizuo’s mouth. 

If Izaya was worried that his concession would lead to an initial round of awkwardness, he need not have wasted the energy. Nearly the instant his lips touched Shizuo’s, the blond was in motion, setting a soft pulsing rhythm for their hips as he once more sucked deeply into the kiss, tongue rubbing a moan from Izaya’s mouth with a sinful medley of heat and pressure. The flood of lust hit Izaya’s groin like a physical blow before sizzling through his limbs and down to his fingertips in waves of tingling pleasure. Surrounded in a haze of longing, pleasure, and solid sultry heat, Izaya-  
  
Fell off the couch. Posh yes. Adequate for impromptu sex  _no_. This thought shot through his mind in the instant before Shizuo tumbled down on top of him with a surprised curse, and Izaya had to grunt as the air was driven from his lungs.   
  
“I was under the impression “making love” was gentler than this,” Izaya wheezed. Shizuo managed to prop himself up on his elbows before bursting into that rich, delighted laughter than had the interesting ability of making Izaya both melt and become more rigid. The blond regarded him with such a tender, amused look that Izaya immediately forgot the floor’s transgressions against the back of his skull.   
  
“I  _was_  set on taking your breath away,” Shizuo sniped back with blatant mirth. Izaya, always a fan of banter, rewarded this statement by slowly dragging his tongue across Shizuo’s chest in one long, coy lick. His mouth halted on a pert nipple, which he experimentally sucked into his mouth with gentle pressure and a laving tongue. Shizuo’s breathless whimper was a straight shot of euphoria that Izaya was eager to replicate. Slowly, with his attention solidly on Shizuo’s reaction, his tongue flicked back and forth across the firm flesh before he pulled back slightly to bathe the area in a warm puff of breath.   
  
Shizuo’s whimper turned into a soft, breathy moan as his hands dug into Izaya’s waist- exactly the sort of reaction Izaya was looking for (as the powerful twitch in his groin gave testament to). Encouraged, Izaya was tracing his tongue towards the other nipple when he felt strong arms encircling him. In one fluid, sweeping motion, Izaya was vertical and clinging to Shizuo’s broad shoulders as the taller man stood up effortlessly. Izaya quickly wrapped his legs around Shizuo’s toned waist to keep from falling, and hissed as their clothed erections dragged against each other. Shizuo faltered for one step, gave a breathless, possessive nip to Izaya’s shoulder, and then proceeded once more towards the bedroom as Izaya sucked diligently at the hollow of his neck. 

Both were panting by the time Shizuo laid Izaya out on the bed. Sharing a deep, lingering kiss, Shizuo clambered up to straddle the smaller man. Izaya pulled back slowly and stared up into amber eyes that were once more hazy with lust and some emotion far more complicated. The informant had one final balk as Shizuo’s body stretched out to cover his own, and Shizuo’s long, broad hand slowly unzipped the zipper of his pants. He had lost control of the situation, he realized as a mewing moan escaped him with the first intimate brush of Shizuo’s finger tips. If he truly wanted to hold the cards in this encounter, now was the time to pull back.  
  
Ultimately though, Izaya was a selfish bastard of the “if it feels good, do it” variety, and he couldn't think of a single thing that felt better than this. Concluding that surrendering to the addicting sensation of Shizuo’s hand would only be perpetuating one of his numerous character flaws (and was therefore in no way a sign of defeat), Izaya dropped the residual worry and submerged himself in the carnal feel of Shizuo’s massaging fingers.   
  
Slowly, tortuously, Shizuo released his lower lip that was now swollen and hypersensitive, and kissed a trail down his neck, down his chest, down his stomach. Izaya’s breath was coming in ragged gasps as his eyes remained locked on the messy blond strands that slowly crawled the expanse of his stomach. His abs shivered and tensed with the sensation of Shizuo’s soft lips and nimble tongue. The moist trail was past his navel now, tracing the light trail of hair. Further, further, his gasps caught in his throat as Shizuo sent him one hungry, wicked, searching look before he moved the last few centimeters, gently slipped down Izaya’s boxers, and dropped his mouth over the straining head of Izaya’s erection.  
  
Izaya saw stars as his head thrashed back into the pillows and his fingers clawed into the bed sheets. Every muscle in his body seemed to be trembling on edge as he arched up into that delectable mouth with a silent scream. Never. He had never felt-   
  
Shizuo’s tongue dragged and swirled across taut skin, sending vibrant waves of pleasure through the entire lower half of Izaya’s body. Lust was robbing Izaya of all coherent thought; it was all he could do to emit a soft, low moan as his fingers sank into blond hair. Shizuo hummed at the contact as he gave another languorous, sucking bob, and Izaya was deathly afraid he was about to come in the other man’s mouth. The heat was simply too much. The pleasure bordering on pain was searing through his cock with each additional pull of wet flesh. Shizuo gave one final swallow that reached down to the base of Izaya’s cock, and Izaya was left a trembling mess, jerking upwards as his toes and fingers flexed in rigid passion. He was going to-  
  
Shizuo pulled back with an obscene, wet slurp, and Izaya couldn't help the disdained cry as he frantically thrust up in an effort to reestablish that maddening friction. Shizuo’s large hand held down one hip as his mouth kissed along the bony ridge of the other in tempo with Izaya’s whimpers. He remained there, with chaste kisses and delicate rubbing, until the Izaya eased off of the painful, searing brink he was on- still incredibly needy and aroused, but unlikely to come with the slightest contact on his prick.   
  
Giving a frustrated huff to Shizuo’s quiet smile, the informant flipped them so Shizuo was falling back into the pillows. With trembling hands, Izaya undid the blond’s pants and peeled away cloth to reveal the beautiful skin beneath. Shifting, he re-positioned until his thighs hovered hungrily over Shizuo’s insistent erection. 

“Hold on,” Shizuo murmured in a low, husky voice. Izaya inhaled sharply and felt the liquid drip of precum slip down his length at the sound of that tone. There was something undeniably sexy about every aspect of Shizuo at that moment- the hooded eyes, mussed hair, spreading flush, rough baritone voice, gentle caresses in the face of his terrifying strength… Izaya was moved by a sensation he didn't have a name for, and stroked his fingers along the blond’s jaw as Shizuo retrieved the bottle of oil he had been sifting around for. At the feel of Izaya’s fingers, his eyes seemed to smolder, and he executed an impressive sit up to capture Izaya’s mouth once more.  
  
Even the kisses were slowly evolving into something new and strange. There was just as much passion, just as much lust, but the actual motions had become slower, more deliberate, and infinitely gentler. Izaya sighed and sank into that welcoming mouth as he felt slick, gentle fingers probing his hole.  
  
This was something new as well. He had never been  _prepped_  for sex before. But then, he had never been sucked off before. Had never been so gently kissed. Had never been stroked with the sort of soft reverence that seemed to suggest he was something that should be treasured.  
  
His musings halted when two fingers slipped into him and dragged carefully along skin that made him open his mouth in silent panting. Warmth flooded through him in a sort of quiet tide that swelled with each additional stroke. Murmuring something nonsensical, Izaya slowly tugged Shizuo’s hand away, and positioned himself to take in the other man. Shizuo let out one quiet breath before capturing Izaya’s mouth as the smaller man angled his pelvis and rolled down onto that stiff, warm length.   
  
It was new. Everything was so new. This control over the pace, and the subtly building pressure... For once, Izaya felt out of his league just from the sheer sensation of meeting Shizuo thrust for gentle thrust in a chorus of slapping skin. He was forced to silence his thoughts and simply feel the rhythm of what they were doing, simply explore the feeling of that growing need as Shizuo pushed deeper and deeper while running light fingers along his spine.   
  
Too soon, that quiet tide was building into a much more insistent throb, and Izaya felt his muscles trembling as they picked up the pace in a flood of sensuality. Once more, he closed his eyes and simply  _moved_ , letting his body find the pulse of that throbbing warmth that was building, building…  
  
Shizuo’s hand came up to wrap around the base of his cock, squeezing tightly and denying him that final liberating rush of desire. Izaya gave a frustrated cry and ground against Shizuo’s length, but once more the blond was keeping him still, holding him through the edging pleasure that left him wanting to writhe and scream. It felt as if every nerve ending was straining to release the flood of pressure that Shizuo was holding back, and Izaya’s eyes snapped open in frustrated desperation.

“Shizuo…”  
  
The blond’s eyes darted up to his face, and Izaya saw his lustful abandon mirrored on those handsome features. Shizuo’s eyes held a sort of controlled insanity that drew Izaya in and swallowed him whole.  
  
“Say that again,” the demand was soft, husky, tender. But there was no mistaking that it was a demand.  
  
“Shizuo,” Izaya whispered once more, feeling the thrill in his blood on top of everything else as something in Shizuo’s expression broke. The taller man was flipping them, pressing Izaya into the pillows and drawing his legs around a muscular waist. The result was Shizuo seated all the way to the hilt inside of him, towering over him, and giving him the most intense look he had ever received in his life. Izaya’s cock wept with the combined sensations.  
  
“Again.”  
  
“Shizuo.”  
  
Shizuo was moving in firm, deliberate thrusts as his eyes continued to drill into Izaya’s. The sort of unbridled reverence in that gaze left him weak in the knees and trembling in the wake of every rapturous thrust. Once more Izaya was consumed with an overwhelming pleasure, forced to break the eye contact as one hand threaded into Shizuo’s hair and the other looped back to clasp the bed post in a desperate, clawing grip.   
  
Izaya was lost amid this level of attentiveness, intensity,  _passion_. Under Shizuo's worshipful gaze, he finally felt suffused in the godliness he was always chasing. He was drowning and never wanted another breath of air. Pushing back against Shizuo as the blond’s hands continued to stroke up and down his ribs, Izaya finally clawed his way into the mind-numbing surge of euphoria and the blinding sensation of pure  _friction_.   
  
His orgasm was upon him in a continually building rush of warmth, dragging each additional spurt of semen out of him with a gut wrenching intensity that left his eyes wide open and his throat contracting in a silent scream. With each splash against his stomach, the searing hot pleasure only grew in intensity, dragging more and more from him until he felt as if he had emptied everything he had. Still the pleasure came, consuming him until he was finally able to let loose a half broken cry and cling to Shizuo for fear of being carried away in the tide of pleasure. 

Shizuo was lost as soon as he felt Izaya lock up around him. It had been all he could do to last this long, given free range over the flawless flesh, the slender body, the wondrous and wondering expression. He had been pulled into a sort of lustful madness by the breathy sighs and nearly silent whimpers (the complete antithesis of Izaya’s normal obscene spouting), not to mention the sort of innocent wonder Izaya was using to tackle this new type of sex. Shizuo watched in breathless arousal as the smaller man’s eyes stretched open and his straining, swollen cock splashed jet after jet of white across his stomach. Shizuo was lost, and he could do nothing but hunch over and empty himself with an extended groan into that tantalizing warmth that pulsed around him in powerful contractions.   
  
When he could finally see straight and his muscles decided to work once more, he pulled out slowly and mopped them both clean with a bed sheet he promptly threw to the floor. Izaya was still wide eyed and trembling silently, his characteristic grin stretched across his face for an entirely new reason. Shizuo took advantage of the smaller man’s shell-shocked submissiveness and gathered him up in a protective embrace.   
  
“So. That was something else,” Shizuo whispered after a decent stretch of silence, his fingers playing up and down Izaya’s spine as he listened to the other man’s breathing finally evening out. “Wow. I really wouldn't be against doing that again at some point.”  
  
Silence greeted this statement, and Shizuo shifted uncomfortably. “Unless you prefer the alleyway version?” He asked at length. Still nothing. He glanced down in an effort to gauge Izaya’s expression, and found the informant soundly asleep against his chest.  
  
Feeling as if he were witnessing something fragile and sacred, Shizuo pulled the other man closer as he buried his nose in soft dark hair and closed his own eyes, lulled to sleep by the pleasant afterglow and the sensation of another person sleeping quietly at his side.


	5. Chapter 5

“I’m not holding hands with you in public.”  
  
As unlikely a scene as it was, the two were enjoying the soft morning sunlight and a ridiculously domestic cuddle. Birds were even chirping outside the window, and Izaya was concerned that if things got any more picturesque he and Shizuo would spontaneously break into a choreographed musical number.   
  
Izaya looked up at Shizuo to gauge his response to this unyielding statement. The blond really had the most adorable of shit-eating grins, now that he noticed it. “Wouldn’t want that. It ruins my ruthless image.” Izaya resisted pointing out that early morning snuggles weren’t exactly that conducive to his image either.  
  
“Good. And don’t expect sappy love letters either.”  
  
“That’s okay. I’ll write enough for both of us. And post them on your forum. Nothing too bad. Something like “I love you muffin, I miss you so much xoxoxo” or “I’m thinking about you in that pink nightie, pookie” Tame things.” Izaya struggled to free himself from the sheets. “Where are you going?”  
  
“To go drown myself in the toilet. Please feel free to continue.”  
  
Shizuo burst into that clear, unabashed laughter. Izaya was disgruntled to find the sound still liquidated his muscle. He was kind of hoping that had been an artifact of the alcohol.   
  
“Get back here,” the larger man chuckled, looping his arm around a thin waist and pulling Izaya back into the obnoxiously comfortable cuddle. Izaya was really losing his will to fight at this point, and melted into the reassuring warmth. He nuzzled at the lean chest, and was astounded to find Shizuo’s very scent apparently made him happy.   
  
The conversation was another odd bump in whatever it was they were creating here. Both of them had been a bit baffled to find Izaya was still there in the morning, and Izaya himself was moderately concerned to discover he continued to have no great motivation to leave. It would have at least been a nice consolation prize to find the night of amazing sex had washed away his need to be near his ex-rival, but no such luck. A part of himself that he desperately wanted to stab in the eye admitted that it wouldn’t be so bad to wake up in such a manner every morning. The only solace in the situation was Shizuo appeared to be similarly affected by their activities the previous night, and appeared to be just as bothered that his… affection…. had only increased for Izaya. Thus was born the grudging conversation in which they had to acknowledge that maybe this  _wasn’t_  just a onetime thing.  
  
“Fine, if you agree to no hand holding and no love letters, I can compromise with something domestic. I’ll make breakfast.”  
  
Shizuo gave a thoughtful hum that vibrated Izaya’s cheek pleasantly. “Sounds nice. Waffles?”  
  
The shorter man scoffed. “I hope that was a joke as well, or I am giving up on your sense of taste.”  
  
“What?” Shizuo sounded slightly offended, and Izaya had to marvel at the fact they were apparently having a disagreement in which no taunts were given and no surrounding structure was hurled. Strange and stranger. “Lots of people like waffles. There is nothing wrong with waffles. What’s wrong with  _you_?”  
  
“I really don’t think we have the time or inclination to get into that.”  
  
Shizuo gave an appreciative chuckle and absently ran his fingers through dark hair. “Fair enough. I am curious though,” he started, his tone becoming more serious. “What prompted the sudden change? Truthfully.”  
  
The warm haze Izaya had been floating in evaporated. He had opened his mouth to spin another tale, when he was suddenly and acutely reminded of how warm it was being in Shizuo’s arms. How disgustingly comfortable it was. How, against all odds, he couldn’t think of anything that had ever made him happier (which was saying  _a lot_ ). His eyes squeezed shut with a small shudder. It would be so easy to brush the inquiry off. Pretend the whole scheme hadn’t happened. It would be better for them both if Shizuo never knew, right?

A very rusty and neglected part of Izaya’s soul squeaked in protest. He had the fleeting suspicion it was his conscience. Why else would he suddenly feel almost nauseated at the thought of lying to Shizuo? Just because the other man had created an amazing evening, and offered a tentative emotional solace, and had shown Izaya a level of sex he didn't even know was possible-  
  
Fuck.  
  
He almost wanted to burst into hysterical laughter at the poetic justice of it all. For everything Shizuo had done, he couldn’t bring himself to lie to this man. And yet to tell him the truth would very likely surrender everything Izaya had only just achieved.  _Catch-22, baby_.  
  
He kept his eyes closed as he started to talk. He really didn’t want to see Shizuo’s face. On that note, he really didn’t even want to acknowledge that for the first time in his life, he was making a personal sacrifice for the good of another. Somehow, he suspected the gesture would be lost on Shizuo.  
  
There was a haunting silence after he finished. Not willing to give up his last few moments of comfort, Izaya pressed his head against Shizuo’s chest and waited for the hammer to fall. If Shizuo killed him in a fit of rage, the Ikebukuro rumor mill would at least get a kick out of it.   
  
Shizuo finally shifted, and Izaya tensed. Whatever assault he was expecting, however, was nothing compared to how the ground wash out from under him as Shizuo softly brushed back his bangs with a large hand. Izaya’s gaze met warm brown eyes.  
  
“Thank you. And for the record, I think I  _am_  starting to love you.”  
  
Izaya’s mouth gaped in shock before it was being filled with Shizuo’s tongue, and he had better things to do than lie there and angst.

* * *

Several hours later, Izaya was lying on his back and quietly appreciating the stars that kept bursting across his field of vision. The entire situation still didn’t make sense to him. Normally, not understanding something was one of his largest pet peeves, but he was far too high on endorphins to pay that much mind.  
  
“Are you really sure this is what you want?” he whispered, flopping his head to the side so he could look at the sweaty, panting blond next to him. “I am only going to say this once. You are a good guy, Shizu-chan. You deserve better than an evil scheming bastard.”  
  
Shizuo let out an exhausted snort and watched Izaya out of the corner of his eyes. “I think you have a selfish set of morals, but I don’t think you are evil. Your acts are more damaging through their disregard for others than they are for outright malice. You light a fire and watch the world burn, but it is to analyze the flames, not to hear the screams.”  
  
“I notice you failed to address the scheming bastard part. You also just successfully executed a metaphor. I really don’t think my sense of reality can handle this in addition to my recent emotional revelations.”  
  
“No, I’m serious. I think you are just too smart for your own good. Like those parrots that go crazy and become destructive if they are stuck in a cage all day. You just need to find other ways to entertain yourself that aren’t quite so destructive.”  
  
“Did you just compare me to a self-mutilating cockatoo? I could swear I found you endearing a moment ago, but for the life of me I can’t remember why…”   
  
With a grin, Shizuo leaned down to kiss him, lips playing gently and chastely against his own as large, warm hands slowly massaged the muscles in his thighs. Izaya let out a blissful sigh, melting into the embrace. He was still utterly confused and feeling off-balanced by the whole occasion, but he suspected he would just have to come to terms with the fact Shizuo had successfully changed the rules of the game. Izaya was going to have a hell of a time switching gears. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ending thoughts:

  
-Even though the gesture is completely devoid of the originally intended antagonism, the following day Izaya still sends Kasuka a fruit basket.  
  
-Despite hooking up almost nightly in the early stages of their relationship (strictly to fine tune the basics of what they are doing, you understand) the two are quite discreet when it comes to the actual act of sex. They are only ever caught by one acquaintance while “in the throes”. That person is Namie. To this day there is heated debate between employer and subordinate on whether or not a nosebleed was involved.   
  
-To their mutual surprise, Shizuo is by far the kinkier of the two. Whenever they hook up, Izaya happily defaults to make outs -> missionary -> cuddles, unless Shizuo has something else in mind. Shizuo really  _wants_  to mock him for it, but finds it far too endearing to do so.   
  
-Erika takes to stalking them whenever they appear in public together (and sometimes even when they decide to stay in for the night…) She makes a killing off of all of the hot BL footage she gathers, which she then sells to all of her fujoshi friends. Shizuo regards the entire situation as Izaya’s fault, which isn’t completely unfounded seeing as he sells Erika all of her juiciest material.  
  
-Shizuo and Izaya’s daily interactions really don’t alter all that much. Shizuo is still seen chasing Izaya through Ikebukuro with various unlikely projectiles. The only difference is it is for using his tooth brush instead of orchestrating a three-way gang war. On this note, their actual mannerisms don’t alter all that much either (while they have acknowledged their cardinal flaws, it is not something a night of sex will cure). Simply having the other around DOES act as a sort of checks-and-balances to minimize collateral damage from their respective neuroses though. Izaya can usually intercept Shizuo’s rages, and with Celty’s help, Shizuo does damage control on Izaya’s emotionally traumatized victims (it turns into something of a brutally effective self-help program for those unfortunate enough to get involved). 

-Despite the epic potential, there is only one incident in which the two fight as a team: in the early stages of their relationship, the yakuza approach Shizuo about “borrowing” Izaya for a night of fun. The collaborative smack down that ensues is known simply and collectively by residents of Ikebukuro as That One Time. Capcom bases a radically popular RPG off of it.   
  
-Through shocking patience, emotional support, and lots of good old fashioned blow-job-bribery, Shizuo is moderately successful in getting Izaya to be less of an antagonistic prick. To his close friends anyway. If he is in a good mood at least. And if it is a Tuesday. Because of this progress, Izaya is invited to the next group hot pot (for the first and last time). His presence triggers one of the most epic examples of drunken karaoke Japan has ever seen. Shizuo and Izaya’s inebriated rendition of Mariah Carey’s “When You Believe” is a thunderous success, until, moved by the gaiety of the situation and the alcohol in their systems, the two start stripping each other in the middle of the room. Only the judicious use of Celty’s smoke saves the other party goers from joining Namie in the traumatized category of Those Who Have Seen Entirely Too Much of Ikebukuro’s Strongest. Erika promptly tries to sue the dullahan for her intervention.   
  
-Izaya ends up channeling some of his abrasive energies into heated discussions with Shinra, in which they debate who has the more amazing sex life. They generally do this loudly -and in public- until one of their lovers beats them both into unconsciousness. (The practice is eventually stopped by Izaya once Shizuo discovers the wonders of passive aggression- it turns out that picking Izaya up in a massive cuddle and cooing “I only want the best for my schnookums” is a much stronger deterrent than bodily harm).  
  
THE END  
  
(Parting note: wondering where Shinra got naked pictures of Izaya? They had a photoshoot together for this very purpose. The batch of Shinra they sent to Celty met with considerably less success. Izaya suggested the doctor may have more success if he had a mouth-watering physique. If Shinra was interested, Izaya had heard parkour made you into a delicious squee-worthy hunk of manflesh. Shinra thanked him for his thoughtful advice before pouring ipecac into his tea.)

 


End file.
